THE 

Judgment of Paris 



PETER FANDEL 




Class TS 3 5J_L^ 
Book^AiiL XL. 



CopightN" 



1905 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



The Judgment of Paris 



BY 



PETER FANDEL 




^^ARTIetV6RITATIj . 



BOSTON 
THE POET LORE COMPANY 

Publishers 
1905 



Copyright 1905 by Peter Fandel 
All Dramatic Rights Reserved 






UBflARV Of OONGRcS-S* 
two Copies rt«c«ivou 

JUL 13 1905 




Printed at 

THE GORHAM PRESS 

Boston, U. S. A. 



To 

LEO G. BRUENNER 

Whose friendly sympathy was of large encourage- 
ment to my struggling powers, I dedicate this volume. 



Note 

The author wishes to acknowledge his indebted- 
ness of the Book XXIII of Pope's translation of the 
Iliad for the race scene in the second act of The 
Judgment of Paris. 



DRAMATIC PERSONAGES 



HERMES 

PRIAM 

PARIS 

HECTOR 

MESTOR 

ANTIPHON 

POLITES 

HYPOTHUS 

HEMEROS 



HERA 

PALLAS 

APHRODITE 

HECUBA 

CASSANDRA 

OENONE 



Trojan Maidens; Court Dignitaries; Priests; Cit- 
izens; and Virgins of the Temple. 



ACT I 

On Mount Ida 

Dramatic personages of the first act: — Hermes. 
Paris. Hera. Pallas. Aphrodite. Oenone. 

SCENE. A cozy nook on a shoulder-like projec- 
tion of Mount Ida. Through a thin veil of boughs 
Ilium and its acropolis is seen looming from the 
distance. 

(Oenone is sitting in the crotch of a fallen tree, 
while Paris, stretched on the ground before her, has 
his head couched in her lap.) 

Oenone. {Bending down and kissing him.) A 
kiss for thy thoughts, dearest. 
Paris. They are thine, love. 

Oenone. Thou wert silent so long, and hadst such 
a far-away look in thine eyes, that I wondered where 
thy fancy might be roving. 

Paris. Where else could it be, but among yonder 
pile of glimmering palaces. Ah, Oenone, a mighty 
yearning seems to draw me thither; in my every 
dream it appears and, like a Siren, beckons sweetly 
promising. I fear I cannot content myself much 
longer here; for, full of hope and youthful vigor, I 
fain would breast the larger currents of life. 
Oenone. O speak no more, Paris, speak no more, 

7 



8 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

for reptile-like thy words coil themselves about my 
heart and threaten to stifle it. 

Paris. Oenone, a man cannot, like a woman, con- 
tent himself with mere love. 

Oenone. Alas, that it should be so! No thought 
nor yearning have I, that is not centered in thee; 
while thou but deignest me the merest pittance of 
love. 

Paris. Oenone^ have peace. Thou knowest re- 
proach can but embitter me and turn me willfully 
perverse. 

Oenone. Nay, be not angry with me, love; I 
meant not to reproach thee. Come, rest thee again, 
and with a tender ditty I shall woo thee back unto 
content. 

Paris. Oenone, thou knowest that but for thee I 
curb this yearning — yearning — yearning that never 
will be still. 

Oenone. Yet my whole yearning is but to love 
thee. 

Paris. I love thee none the less because I yearn for 
a field of larger action ; no, Oenone, I love thee the 
more, for it is for love of thee that I am ambitious. 
Oenone. O Paris, canst thou not see that I would 
keep thee all to myself — that I would not let the 
world even know of thy being, lest it should grow 
enamored of thee and entice thee away from me 
forever? This, this is the argus-eyed fear that 
haunts me, and lashes my heart to distraction at the 
mere thought of thy going. 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 9 

Paris. Let us have done, Oenone ; why idly pro- 
voke ourselves? It was but a momentary dream, 
and, like many a one before, it will soon be dissi- 
pated into nothingness. Hark! was that not the 
soughing of a rapid wing? Lo, behold! — on yonder 
cliff! 

Oenone. Why, if I see rightly, it is Hermes, the 
messenger of the gods! Come, Paris, let us avoid 
him. 
Paris. It is too late ; he is upon us now. 

{Enter Hermes.) 
Hermes. I greet thee, Paris, well favored of the 
gods. 

Paris. How can I understand thee? 
Hermes. Listen to the messenger of Zeus: before 
thee shortly will appear three goddesses in rivalry 
divided who should be the fairer, and for thee it was 
reserved to give the judgment. 
Oenone. O Hermes, why comest thou to afflict 
us with the wrangels of the gods? Turn, turn, unto 
thy heights again and begrudge us not our meager 
peace. 

Paris. Oenone, cease; thou shalt not deprive me 
of this glorious privilege. (To Hermes.) I pray 
thee, heed her not, but behold me obedient to the 
wishes of the gods. 

Oenone. Paris, if thou lovest me — if thou lovest 
thyself, spurn this preferment, for I feel my spirit 
crying out against it. 
Paris. Oenone, I fear I endulged thee too largely. 



lo THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

for thou fain wouldst tyrannize over my every wish. 
Yet I'll have my will In this. {To Hermes.) Pro- 
ceed, I am attentive to thy further word. 
Hermes. When the goddesses appear each will be 
permitted a plea In her own behalf, after which the 
awarding of this apple (giving Paris a golden ap- 
ple,) shall constitute thy judgment. So keep thyself 
In readiness, my return will herald their approach. 
[ExitH.) 

Oenone. O Paris, what hast thou done ! my heart 
is full of dark forbodlngs. 
Paris. Nay, full of vain fears. 
Oenone. Believe It not. I see the far import of 
things, while thou art taken with their Immediate 
flush. 

Paris. And to be ever taken so. Is all my wish. For 
I would not embitter a happy presence with a fear 
of sorrows yet to be. Who knows what the future 
has in store? no one. Yet a pleasure quaffed is ever 
mine. See, love, I'll not refrain from thy lips be- 
cause I know their bloom will fade. Nay, fonder 
and more eager will I taste of their nectar — thus and 
thus, {kissing her) until a sweet intoxication over- 
comes me bej^ond which even the gods have no fuller 
joy. 

Oenone. My love, mine own! 
Paris. Yes, dear one, let the goddesses appear ; their 
haughty beauty may perchance move me to admira- 
tion, but never can woo to rapture as thy love- 
tempered charms. And, believe me, If I could dis- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS ii 

pose of this apple inscribed "to the fairest" at will, 
it would be unhesitatingly thine. 
Oenone. O Paris, to the power of thy persuasion 
even Hades would seem an Elysium to me. 
Paris. Hermes now returns. Go, Oenone, 
screen thyself, — yonder flowering vine might serve 
thee well therefor, — and behold thy Paris adjudge 
gods. 

{Exit Oenone. Enter Hermes.) 
Hermes. The timely moment is at hand : the god- 
desses approach. 

Paris. I pray thee, who is she who, speeding on a 
pair of stately peacocks, comes yonder in an azure 
car all wheeled with blazzing suns? 
Hermes. That is Hera, the Queen of Olympus. 
Paris. And she who closely follows her, drawn by 
a brace of owls, in chariot of brazen mold and with 
heroical devise embossed? 

Hermes. That is Pallas, the illustrious Maid. 
Paris. And she who, lonely by herself, comes urg- 
ing on a flock of sparrows tethered to a seashell finely 
swelled and rosy-tinted? 

Hermes. That is Aphrodite, the goddess of love. 
Paris. Now they have alighted on yonder brink, 
and hitherward are coming. Alas! I fear prefer- 
ment here an arduous task; for which ever the eye 
last rests on, seems the fairer. 

{Enter Hera, Pallas, and Aphrodite. Hera 
steps first to the natural vantage-ground and ad- 
dresses Paris.) 



12 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Hera. Paris, the Queen of Olympus, the sister- 
wife of Zeus, trustfully condescends to ask her due 
from thy hands. Recognize thy opportunity, then, 
and use it well, and I promise thee power and do- 
minion beyond thy utmost dream. Lo ! what is more 
glorious than power, what more covetable than do- 
minion ? With these thou mayest cater to thy every 
whim, and juggle with the fortunes of nations. So 
go to counsel with thyself, and secure this, the boon 
of all boons, by awarding me the apple. 

(Paris lifts his hand as if he wanted to present 
Hera with the apple, but is restrained therein by 
Pallas stepping to the vantage-ground.) 
Pallas. Paris, I perceive by thy motion that thou 
understandest the value of power, and therefrom 
take assurance that thou wilt award me the apple. 
Hera has but the ability to bestow thee with a 
semblance of power, while I can give thee its very 
soul — Knowledge. For have what power thou may- 
est, yet lack the wisdom of its proper use, and it can 
only result in woe and destruction. So be tractable 
while yet it is time; and by a righteous judgment 
secure that for thyself of which no one may rob thee, 
and that of every condition can make a treasure- 
house of blessedness and peace. 

Oenone. {From her hiding place, in a loud whisp- 
er.) Give it to her, Paris. 

Paris. {Lifting up the apple to Pallas.) Surely, 
thou — 
Aphro. {Stepping forward and interrupting him.) 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 13 

Hold, Paris ! wilt thou prefer power and knowledge, 
to love? No, beware of being so foolhardy. See 
what ungainly affairs they are without love; — mere 
charnel-bones, void of life and grace. Nay, Paris, 
be not deluded ; trust thy native instinct and give me 
the apple : and in reward therefor I promise thee the 
fairest of woman, and with her an Elysium of bliss. 

(Paris goes toward Aphrodite, and, falling on 
his knee before her, gives her the apple.) 
Oenone. {From her hiding place.) Hold, Paris! 
Pallas. Paris. 
Hera. Heed thy action, Paris! 
Paris. {To Aphrodite.) Take it — take it, it is 
thine ! 

Hera. Foolhardy mortal, thou shalt rue this bit- 
terly ! 

Pallas. Yes, be assured of that, if there is such a 
possibility in our combined strength. 
Aphr. He need not fear you, I shall know how to 
protect him. 

Hera. Thou art confident in thy triumph, yet 
doubt not, thy hour of humiliation shall come. 
Hermes. There being no further need of my ser- 
vices, I might as well depart. 

Hera. {Sarcastically.) Yes, and with thee take 
our compliments for thy brilliant manipulation of 
this affair. 

Pallas. I haven't the least doubt but that we owe 
our defeat principally to him; for from the very 
start he seemed inclined to give her the apple. 



14 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Hermes. Defeat is ever of a slanderous tongue, so 
I shall deign you no reply. Yet in justice to myself 
I will say this much: if ever, I served honestly in 
this, and for the result you have but yourselves to 
blame. {Exit Hermes.) 

Aphr. Come, Paris, it were senseless to wrangle 
with embittered minds. Besides, I have an import- 
ant revelation for thee. {Exit Aphrodite and Par- 

IS.) 

Hera. O, I will be revenged for this, and if I have 
to set heaven and earth in motion therefor ! 
Pallas. Whatever thou undertakest, depend on me 
for thy accomplice. I could have borne defeat, had it 
come to me by honest merit ; but that such a piece of 
shallow conceit — such a mask of mere piquant man- 
ner should bear away the prize, is an extreme bitter- 
ness to me. Yet, how shall we proceed in the mat- 
ter? 

Hera. I cannot say as yet. I think it best to learn 
what plan she has with her minion before we choose 
our way. 

{Enter Oenone.) 
Oenone. {Anxiously,) Where can they have 
gone? 

Hera. {Aside to Pallas.) Ah, here is our quar- 
ry. ( To Oenone. ) Where else couldst thou sup- 
pose, my dear maiden, than to some well secluded 
thicket for sweet dalliance. 
Oenone. O say not so — say not so, or thou wilt 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 15 

drive me mad ! Yet I need not fear, Paris will spurn 

her. 

Hera. Poor simpleton! hadst thou seen him fall 

prone to her enticement a few moments ago, thou 

wouldst not be so assured of that. 

Oenone. Nay, nay, he could not be untrue to me, 

— I know it — I know it, and won't admit a doubt! 

Hera. I see by the very emphasis with which 

thou wouldst make thyself believe it, that thou art 

not all too sure of the fact. 

Oenone. He is so good — so beautiful, that I fear 

every one must love him. 

Hera. What would that matter, as long as he only 

loved thee? 

Oenone. I — I know that he only loves me, for no 

matter where he goes he ever tenderly returns to 

me. 

Hera. Yes, and as tenderly returns to others. Oh, 

I know these men ! 

Oenone. I cannot delay with you any longer; I 

must find them. 

Hera. And when thou hast found them, thinkest 

thou that thou wilt be a welcome intruder on their 

fond seclusion? 

Oenone. Oh, why dost thou plague me thus — 

why torture my heart to its utmost endurance? 

Pallas. If by this time thou canst not perceive that 

we are laboring for thy good, it were useless for us to 

tell thee so. 

Hera. Listen, girl: to face the matter rightly, I 



i6 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

really do not think that Aphrodite has designs on 
thy lover, but she certainly has designs with him, 
and it is these that we would help thee frustrate. 
Oenone. If you wish me well, pray, advise me. 
Hera. As yet we do not know what her intentions 
with him are; but, to judge from general appear- 
ances, they are liable to separate him from thee 
forever. 

Oenone. Oh, I knew that misery would follow in 
your wake — I knew that nothing good would come 
from your approach ! 

Pallas. Blame not us for that ; we are like every- 
thing else, good to the good, and evil to the evil. 
Oenone. But how do you intend to aid me? 
Hera. To effectively counterplot her we must be 
fully aware what her plans with thy lover are. There- 
for, we would have thee learn all particulars regard- 
ing them, and inform us thereof at thy earliest con- 
venience. 

Pallas. (Urgently.) Paris is hastily returning 
yonder; come, let us depart. 

Hera. Thy fate is in thine own hands now ; if thou 
aidest not the willing gods, there is no help for thee. 
(Exeunt Hera and Pallas.) 
Paris. (Without.) Oenone! Oenone! (He 
enters and embraces Oenone joyfully, who at once 
arouses from her sullen mood and passionately clings 
to him.) 

Oenone. I knew that they were speaking falsely 
— I knew that thou wouldst return to me ! 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 17 

Paris. What, have they been trying to poison thy 

mind against me? 

Oenone. They told me she Intended to take thee 

away from me forever. 

Paris. And thou didst believe them ? 

Oenone. No, no, I would not — I could not, 

though It were the truth. Yet, why didst thou think 

her the fairer? ... I thought her hateful, 

fawning, and — and — Oh, would thou hadst given 

the apple for knowledge rather than love. 

Paris. How could I, thou foolish little vixen, with 

all my heart full of Its sweetness. Yet let me tell 

thee, Oenone^ that by giving It for love I attained 

knowledge also. 

Oenone. How that? 

Paris. Oenone, I am the son of a king. (Oenone 

shrinks from him.) Yes, yonder palaces, to which 

my yearning ever went, are the royal habitations of 

my father. 

Oenone. Paris, Paris, say it is not so, say it is 

not so ! 

Paris. What has come over thee, Oenone? I 

came hither with the hope of seeing thee jubilant of 

my good fortune, and now I find thee sullen and 

Indisposed. 

Oenone. {As if she heard him not.) Then, then 

the goddesses spoke the truth! 

Paris. Listen, Oenone^ perhaps thou doest not 

realize things rightly. She told me that I was the 

second son of king Priam^ and that because my 



i8 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

mother dreamt at my birth she had brought forth a 
burning torch, the soothsayers, proclaiming it an 
evil omen, cast me out to die; yet that a passing 
herdman, hearing my cry, delivered me from the 
death to which I was exposed, and reared me as his 
own. And to-morrow, when all Troy in festive cel- 
ebration is before the walls, I am to take my fairest 
bullock and go there, and, with the secret help of 
the goddess, shall be made known to my father, and 
placed into my birthright at last. 
Oenone. And be lost to me forever. 
Paris. Oenone ! 

Oenone. Yes, I see it clearly. Thou wilt go into 
the busy world, and with its revels and divertise- 
ments crowd out every thought of me ; while I must 
rove about the glens alone, and be haunted at every 
step with a memory of him that is gone. O Oenone, 
Oenone, would that thou never hadst been born, 
or at least hadst spurned Love, the despoiler of all 
native happiness and peace! 
Paris. Oenone ! 

Oenone. Let us say no more. When love has to 
descend to pleading, every added word can but 
lessen its power. Go, go, claim thy fortune — rise 
on a broken heart to glory ; I shall seek the shadowy 
coves and echoing caverns, and on the reverberations 
of my plaint feed myself into a specter of grief. 
Paris. Oenone, wouldst thou selfishly keep me 
low when glorious heights are beckoning? 
Oenone. Nay, nay; go if thou wouldst, I have 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 19 

come to my senses at last: If there thy goal of con- 
tentment lies, It were of no avail to try to with- 
hold thee from It. . . . Yet, Paris, thou wilt 
not forget me altogether — thou wilt come to me 
sometimes with the old, fond caress, wilt thou not? 
Paris. Why Oenone, If once I have come to my 
own, I win return and take thee to abide with me 
always. 

Oenone. I cannot endulge that hope, Paris; for 
the river god Cerbron Is my father, and I am born 
a mountain Nymph. We can draw mortals to us, 
and consort with them In our glades and glens, but 
never may we enter their populous cities, and pros- 
per. 

Paris. But, perchance, when I have tasted of this 
larger life which lies so enticingly before me now, I 
shall be only too glad to return to these peaceful 
haunts. 

Oenone. Ah, If I could let these words unto be- 
lief, Paris, my grief were half soothed. But, alas! 
human nature Is all too plastic. It readily loses Its 
love for the old and adapts Itself to new environ- 
ment. 

Paris. If I ever forget thee, Oenone, let me be ac- 
curst. 

Oenone. No, no, Paris, do not say that; for no 
matter what I have to endure, I could not bear to 
see thee suffer. Yet go, go, delay no longer; only re- 
member that thy absence with me shall be one long- 
ing for thy return. 



20 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Paris. Farewell, love! no matter what fortune is 
mine, thou shalt ever be my fondest, dearest wish. 
{With that he kisses her and, after a few loving 
caresses, hastens away,) 

Oenone. Gone — gone, and with him all my joy, 
all my peace! Cold — cold and unfriendly the old 
familiar haunts shall glower now, and dishearten me 
with their sullen silence. O Ida, sweet nurse of 
my youth, even thou seemest changed; for pitiless 
thou beholdest thy child in woe, nor, as of yore, 
stoopest to it with tender guile and loving glad- 
someness. ... Ye furies of parted love, are 
you already on my tracks — harassing and lashing 
with never tiring might? Oh, how shall I bide the 
hours then when they have numbered more and more, 
and vainly I shall hearken for his returning step? 
how pass the nightly watches when fancy strips all 
reasonable tether and storms to wild chimeras of 
fear and despair? Alas, now only dawns on me the 
terror of his going — now only the dread of my utter 
abandonment! Ah me! I shall surely die, alone 
here in fanciful idleness. 

(Hera and Pallas re-enter softly and overhear, 
the last words.) 

Hera. That were sheer folly; thou must follow 
him and keep us informed of his every movement. 
Oenone. What, you here again? Begone, I hate 
— I detest you ; for you are the cause of all my mis- 
ery. 
Pallas. Thou art frantic, child. 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 21 

Oenone. Ay, would that I were dead. 
Hera. If we harmed thee, it was so against our will. 
Pallas. Yes, that is surely evident, since we now 
would aid thee. 

Oenone. You aid, you weak embodiments of con- 
ceit; — misery you cause, but no good. You boast 
of power, and you cannot turn one poor human heart 
to love beyond its own blind impulse. . . . Be- 
gone, I hate — I detest you. 
Hera. Then take the consequence of thy folly. 
Oenone. I will, and gladly; for it cannot be much 
worse than that of your wisdom. 
Pallas. Thou art insolent. 

Oenone. And you are crafty, and would but work 
upon me for your malicious ends. 
Hera. Very well, then, remain here; it is nothing 
to us, thou art the sole loser. 

Oenone. No, I will not remain here ; secretly will 
I follow him and hover about his path: yet not in 
your service, but in that of my love. {Exit 
Oenone.) 

Hera. Well, let her go; I see she would have 
proved a very unreliable tool after all, and at the 
most critical moment might have given way. Be- 
sides, we overheard enough to guide us onward for 
the present. Listen, I have an idea : we will disguise 
ourselves and as men attend to-morrow's fete. 
Pallas. That is an excellent scheme; for thus we 
shall be kings of the situation, and able to baulk her 
at every turn. 



22 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS : 

Hera. Come, let us proceed. i 

Pallas. Yes, let us proceed, for in procedure only i 

lies success. j 

i 
CURTAIN i 



ACT II 

Before the Walls of Troy 

Dramatic personages of the second act: — Priam, 
Paris, Hector, Mestor, Antiphon, Polites, 
Hypothus, Hecuba, Oenone, Cassandra, 
Hera, Pallas, Aphrodite, Priests, Dignataries, 
Citizens, Trojan Maidens, General Populace. 

SCENE. A large plain, with the walls of Troy in 
the rear and its acropolis looming over them from 
the distance. To the right, a pillared portico; to the 
left, approach to the race course. 

{Three citizens to one side in conversation.) 

I C. The pageant is coming; look, they are break- 
ing way for it. 

II C. I wish this business were done with, and they 
would begin the games. 

III C. Have you heard the latest? 

II C. No; what is it? 

III C. They admitted a mere herdsman to run as 
one of the contestants in the chariot race. 

I C. You don't say so? 

II C. Why, I thought the chariot race had been 
reserved exclusively for the princes of the royal 
house ? 

III C. So it was. 

23 



24 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

I C. There must be something special about him, 
then, or they would not have accorded him that 
privilege. 

Ill C. Not that anyone knows of. He merely 
brought the preferred bullock for to-day's sacrifice, 
for which the King assured him the grant of a wish ; 
and that is what he chose. 

II C. What, permission to contend in the chariot 
race? 

III C. Yes. 

II C. Why, how foolhardy. 

I C. Yes; for he certainly has not the ghost of a 
chance to outrival Mestor. 

II C. And if he had, I fear it would go hard with 
him; for Mestor has a large following here to-day, 
that were liable to resent the humiliating of its cham- 
pion by a mere intruder. 

III C. The pageant is approaching; we must look 
to our places or shall be crowded out. 

II C. Yes; and I am anxious now to get a glimpse 
at our ambitious cowherd. 

{They pass out laughing. Enter two Trojan 
maidens J closely folloiued hy Oenone.) 

I M. Come, yonder is a good place ; I must see him 
again. 

II M. Beware, or thou wilt lose thy heart on him. 
I M. Alas, I fear It Is already too late to beware. 
Know, as the pageant passed through the gate, the 
quarters being rather narrow, I came almost in im- 
mediate contact with him. Instinctively I grasped 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 25 

for the flower on my bosom, and oiiFered It to him : 
and he took It — took it with such a look as went to 
my blood like some rich wine. 

II M. Then come, let us see whether in passing he 
remembers thee yet. 

{Exeunt Maidens.) 
Oenone. {Who had overheard all.) Oh, my heart 
Is bursting! I fear I cannot remain here, for every 
eager gaze that falls on him is a torture to me. Is 
there then no one to have pity on me ! 

(Hera and Pallas, disguised as men, had just 
entered, and overheard the last words.) 
Hera. {Stepping up to her.) Art thou in trouble. 
Maiden ? 

Oenone. What is that to thee. . . . Let me 
pass. 

Hera. It Is nothing to me, unless thou regrettest a 
lost opportunity. 

Oenone. Let me pass, idle mocker thou, I'll not 
serve thy humor. {With that she forces her way 
by Hera^ and is lost in the crowd.) 
Hera. She is as hateful as ever. 

{The noise of the approaching pageant is coming 
nearer and nearer. Enter Priests, followed by 
Paris leading the sacrificial bullock. Next appear 
several Court-dignitaries. Then come Priam and 
Hecuba^ borne in pending chairs, by slaves. The 
Princes of the royal house bring up the rear. When 
all have passed over the stage, the crowd follows in 



26 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

their wake. Hera and Pallas remain behind 
alone.) 

Pallas. What can Aphrodite intend with having 
her minion accepted as one of the contestants in the 
race ? 

Her.\. Doubtless, to show him of such excellence 
that his father will open his arms to him in glad 
reception. 

Pallas. If that be her aim, she, certainly, has chos- 
en the wrong means to secure it ; for there is no pos- 
sible chance for him to outdo approved skill. 
Hera. Fear not, she will know how to bring him 
out ahead. 

Pallas. If she uses foul means, we must expose her. 
Hera. {Hatefully.) Yes, yes, anything that will 
harass her — anything that will let her know that we 
are hounding her to the last breath. Yet, hush! I 
see her yonder looking at us with a knowing eye; 
evidently we are recognized, for she is coming di- 
rectly toward us. 

(Enter Aphrodite.) 
Aphro. What, you here, and in such attire? Why, 
you look like a pair of dashing young blades, out to 
play havoc with tender hearts. 
Hera. We are out to play havoc, but not with ten- 
der hearts. 

Aphro. Not with tender hearts? Surely, you 
look perfectly harmless otherwise. 
Hera. We shall see. 
Aphro. I hope, {sarcastically.) Gentlemen, that 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 27 

you are not deluding yourselves with false pros- 
pects ? 

Hera. Permit that to be our affair. 
Aphro. So you are determined on a feud ? 
Hera. Ay, to the bitter end. 

Aphro. Then be assured that it shall be bitter for 
you. 

Pallas. Be not boastful on a past success; For- 
tune is a fickle goddess. 

Aphro. Not to those who knew how to prize her 
favors. 

Pallas. But to those who are too sure of her con- 
stancy. 

Aphro. Let us cease talking; action alone should 
be the speech of gods. {Exit Aphrodite.) 
Hera. Now, Pallas, to work: the sacrifice is over 
and the race will soon be on. Go thou along the 
dusty course and, invisible to mortal-eye, wherever 
possible baulk her effort to advance her minion in the 
race. 

Pallas. Yet let thou no chance escape thee here to 
thwart her, for, scenting me on her tracks, she might 
change her plans. 

Hera. Fear not, I shall not be nodding. {Exit 
Pallas.) Ah, here comes Cassandra, the mad 
prophetess. She is aware that Paris is her brother, 
and believes him returned to fulfill the prophesy that 
clings to his life; but despairing to bring the peo- 
ple to her conviction, she walks about in muffled 
silence. Perhaps it were well for me to arouse her 



28 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

somewhat on the matter. I know it can be of no 
avail directly, for the people spurn her prophecies 
and mock her utterance, but indirectly it might give 
my words prestige if, as a last resource, I should be 
compelled to take it up to secure our end. {Enter 
Cassandra, melancholy and despondent.) Sleep- 
eth Cassandra or has the prophetic voice grown 
dumb? 

Cassandra. {Startled.) Ah, who art thou that 
graspeth with rude hand into my meditations — who 
of all men that believeth in the voice of Cassandra ? 
Hera. Ask not, for my identity is purposely veiled 
to thee; but go, awaken Ilium to its impending 
danger. 

Cass. Alas! the people spurn my prophecy and are 
deaf to my cry. A fatal blindness has befallen them, 
and my labor would be vain. 

Hera. Believe it not; the god-given voice speaks 
never in vain: somewhere its counsels take root and 
grow to fruition. Have courage, therefor, and doubt 
not thy labor by its immediate result. The spirit 
of a true word is ever active, and eventually ma- 
tures to purpose. 

Cass. Ah, refreshingly fall thy words on my heart, 
and though I see not, I hear a divine presence. 
Hera. Do as I bade thee, and let the whisper of 
divine approval in thy heart, in success or failure, 
alone be a sufficient reward for thee. Farewell! 
{Exit Hera.) 
Cass. Hold, hold, I pray thee! Alas, he is gone. 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 29 

Surely, the gods must be with me, and sent him to 
strengthen my fainting heart to its duty, ay — to its 
duty even against a brother's life. 

(Oenone enters and falls on her knees before 
Cassandra.) 

Oenone. Pity, pity one who is in sad distress. 
Cass. Who art thou? Whence thy coming? 
Oenone. I am a Nymph from the mountain, and 
the river god Cerbron is my father. 
Cass. What seekest thou of me then, a poor mor- 
tal? 

Oenone. Alas! I am lost in this multitudinous 
life, and in utter confusion. 
Cass. How wouldst thou have me aid thee? 
Oenone. Take me in thy care, and let me feel that 
there is at least one being in all this world to whom 
I may cling. 

Cass. But why returnest thou not to thy native 
haunts ? 

Oenone. My heart is love-lorn and must abide 
near him who is its peace. 

Cass. Say no more. My sympathy is thine and all 
the comfort that it may bestow. Yet at this moment 
I cannot delay with thee; an urgent duty is before 
me, and over-rides my personal will. 
Oenone. Alas, what shall become of me! 
Cass. Listen: go to the tempel of which I am 
priestess, and on my return thither I will befriend 
thee unto need. {Exit Cassandra. Oenone leaves 



30 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

in the opposite direction. Enter Aphrodite and 
Paris. ) 

Paris. I fear I shall have small chance to win in 
the race, for the steeds allotted to me seem past their 
vigor. 

Aphro. Be not afraid, I will aid thee swiftly round 
the goal to turn the flying wheel. Yet, per- 
chance, some precept to guide thy conduct would 
not be amiss. So hear: have no fear of 
thy rivals if, though better equipped, their judg- 
ment compares not with thine. It is not 
strength, but art that attains the goal. The racer 
more than chariot and steeds wins the course. His 
eye, assured, foreruns the way, and his unerring hand 
now contracts and now relaxes the rein unto observed 
need. Seest thou the goal ? It is yonder aged trunk 
of some once stately oak, with stone enclosed round 
to a circle for the wheeling car. It is a tomb, per- 
haps, and of old as now served to limit the race. 
Bear close to this and cautiously bend to the left 
hand steed, yet urge the right and give him all the 
reins, w^hile thy firm hand restrains his fellow's head 
and turns him short till the wheel wellnigh brush 
the goal. So thou shalt win the race and outdo un- 
advised swiftness. 

Paris. And yet I have my fears; for not only in 
this, but in everything else my short-comings are too 
obvious. 

Aphro. Paris, once for all, thou wilt have to trust 
thyself into my hands completely. Be perfectly im- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 31 

passive, follow the course of least resistance, and I 
will see to it that at last thou shalt find thyself at 
the wished for goal. 

Paris. But why take this round-about way? Why 
not be revealed to my father directly ? 
Aphro. Policy is the great game of existence, and 
an awkward move may blight the fairest opportu- 
nity. Know, the very advice I gave thee to win the 
race I must employ to reinstate thee in thy birth- 
right; for Hera and Pallas are determined to 
work against me, and will go to the utmost to defeat 
my plans. Come, let us go aside, some people are 
approaching, and I have yet a few things to inform 
thee of privately. 

{Exeunt Aphrodite and Paris. Some people are 
slowly straggling on the stage now.) 
I Citizen, See, the raving Cassandra is coming 
hitherward. 

n C. I suppose her father refused to lend her ear, 
so she comes to inflict her rant on us. 
HI C. Her madness seems strangely aggravated. 
I C. Yes, for her cheeks are finely flushed, and her 
eyes in a frenzied sparkle. 

(Cassandra enters wildly flustered.) 
Cassandra. O my people, hearken ere the coming 
of the dreadful day; for horror and destruction are 
harboring in your midst ! 
I C. Yes, a beautiful horror like thyself. 
n C. And destruction of good cheer. 
Cassand. Oh ! why are you stony hearted ? Why 



32 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

spurn you the words of prophecy with mockery? O 
my people, come to your senses and take understand- 
ing! for vain is all your sacrifice and prayer if you 
heed not the voice of divine counsel. 
Ill C. Ah, bah! cease thy babble. 
II C. Yes, go, Cassandra, cry to thy temple-walls, 
they have more patience than we. 
I C. Not so; for they even mock her to an echo. 
{Laughter.) 

Cassnd. O Apollo, thou hast cursed me as only a 
god can curse! for I see doom like an avalanche 
sweeping down on my beloved, and, like one in a 
dream, am powerless to avert it. Ah, woe is me! 
woe is me! {With that she hastens away.) 

{ The noise of an approaching multitude has. slow- 
ly grown louder, and see/ns now closely at hand. En- 
ter the royal pageant and the people in general. 
When all have taken their respective places, Priam 
arises and addresses them.) 

Priam. My people and ye princes: since we paid 
due honors to the gods, we will now begin the race 
in the dusty course, for which we have set the prizes 
as follows: — first — a woman in the bloom of youth, 
skilled with the needle and for labor at the loom; 
also a vase of twenty measures capacity, adorned 
with brightly polished handles: — second — a mare 
unbroke and big with a mule: — third — a shining 
charger that holds four ample measures: — two gold- 
en talents shall be the fourth : — and the last, an am- 
ple bowl. You see that the prizes are exceptional, 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 33 

and worthy of the highest excellence. {To Hector.) 
Cast the lot for the prefered places, Hector. 

{When the casing of the lot is done. Hector calls 
out the result.) 

Hector. Mestor leads; Antiphon is next; Po- 
lites, third; Hypothous, fourth; and Paris, last. 

(MeSTOr's good fortune is greeted with loud ap- 
plause by the masses, with whom he seems a general 
favorite. Each contestant rushes out as his name is 
called, eager to mount his chariot.^ 
Hector. {Taking his stand beside his father.) 
Are you ready? — Go. 

{All the noises of a starting race, such as the lash- 
ing of scourges, the coaching of the drivers, and the 
rumbling of chariot — wheels, are heard, and slowly 
diminish as by growing distance.) 
Priam. That was an excellent start; they pulled 
out like one man. 

Hector. Mestor seems easily to take the lead. 
Priam. But, see, how closely the young stranger is 
presssing him. 

Hector. That matters little as yet, since neither 
one has put his steeds to their mettle. 
Priam. But they are warming up, for Paris is gain- 
ing — yes, is in the advance. 

Hector. Truly. But, lo! he has lost his scourge 
now, and his steeds are slackening pace. 
Hera. {Aside.) Good! Pallas, therein I see thy 
hand. 
Hector. Mestor is at the front again. {An en- 



34 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

thusiastic shout from the crowd.) What, can I be- 
lieve mine eyes! Paris has regained his lash and is 
now almost speeding again head to head with 
Mestor. Alas! {A general cry of pity from the 
masses. ) 

Hecuba. {Arising.) What happened, Hector? 
Hector. Mestor's car broke from the yoke and 
hurled him headlong into the dust. 
Hecuba. My son! my son! O tell me that he is 
not harmed. 

Hector. He lies motionless. His steeds, as if con- 
scious of their master's plight, have come to a sud- 
den halt. Ah ! thanks be to the gods ! he bestirs him- 
self, so cannot be seriously injured. Look, An- 
TiPHON is trying to overtake Paris. 
Priam. That is not possible ; for Paris is too far in 
the lead. If he is not careful he will hardly come 
in second, for Polites is gaining on him consider- 
ably. 

Hector. True, Polites is making an intense ef- 
fort. Yet now they are approaching to where the 
wintry torrent has torn a gulch in the course ; unless 
Polites will stay his steeds, he'll bring ruin on both. 
Ah, the furious youth, he presses Antiphon to the 
brink! But, no, Antiphon, more generous and 
wise, restrains his steeds and yields him the way. 
Aged Dignitary. Is it by me alone discerned, 
Hypothous is coming in second. Yes, it is he, I 
know him by the moon of shining white upon his 
Steed's brow, — it is Hypothous ! 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 35 

Another, somewhat younger. Old man, of those 
who view the race neither the sharpest eyed nor 
youngest, yet the readiest to decide and confer the 
prize ; Polites is coming in second, for I know him 
by his shape, his air. 

Aged Dignitary. Thou art of an arrogant tongue ; 
yet a goblet or tripod will I stake on my assertion. 
Priam. Forbear you Elders; much would you 
blame others thus vilely to contend. Besides, the ap- 
proaching steeds your contest now decide. 

{A chariot is heard approaching, and Paris^ throw- 
ing the reins to an attendant, leaps on the stage. He 
is coldly received by all but Priam and Hecuba^ 
who applaud him generously. Another chariot ap- 
proaches and Polites enters in the same way, but 
is more generally applauded. Next appears An- 
tiphon, and then Hypothous. At last Mestor, 
bruised and dusty, comes on the stage, and is greeted 
with a wild juror of applause.) 
Priam. {After the enthusiasm had somewhat sub- 
sided.) Behold him, though the last, whose skill sur- 
passes them all. Therefor, since Fortune wrong- 
fully denies, let us in justice award him the second 
honors of the day. (An expression of large satis- 
faction by the masses.) 

Polites. Nay, father, think not that I will thus 
tamely resign my prize. As long as I was favored by 
the gods, I demand my due, and my allotted mare 
will not forego. 
Antiphon. Polites, hast thou the audacity thus 



36 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

boldly to proclaim the mare thy honest due, when 
thou positively knowest that thy eager wish to con- 
quer, not to circumvent, defrauded me thereof. 
Stand forth and on thy oath vindicate thy claim if 
thou darest. 

PoLiTES. Forgive me, brother, I admit to have 
erred; my eagerness to conquer urged me to take 
an undue advantage. Yet I quit the prize or aught 
else thou askest, if thou wilt forgive me my of- 
fense. 

Antiphon. Thus, my brother, may our differences 
be ever adjusted. A rash heat may momentarily 
impel but never break the settled temper of a noble 
soul. Thy confession has already annulled thy of- 
fense. Therefor I embrace thee, more pleased to 
have regained esteem for my brother than to have 
been foremost in the race. 

Hera. {Stepping forward.) I can no longer stand 
silently by and see rascality triumph. For here you 
are wrangling about a minor prize, while the first 
honors remain undisputed in fraudulent hands. 
Several. What! No! How! 
Hera. Have you no eyes — no sense of the proba- 
bility of things? 

Antiphon. What doest thou mean? 
PoLiTES. Yes, speak plainer. 
Several. Speak plainer! Speak plainer! 
Hera. How is it possible but for a moment to sup- 
pose that, without resorting to undue means, ap- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 37 

proved skill could be thus easily outdone by a crude, 
uncouth herdsman? 
Several. Ah ! Ah ! 

Hera. Are your eyes opening? Do you see? 
Several. We have been duped! He is a fraud! 
Hera. Yes, you have been duped — you were im- 
posed upon by a cunning-souled pretender. 
Several. {Making a rush toward Paris.) The 
knave! Flay him! kill him! 

Priam. Hold ! You shall not harm him on a mere 
suspicion. Let Mestor speak; if there is anything 
wrong in the matter, he surely ought to know. 
Several. Let Mestor speak! Let Mestor speak! 
Mestor. Truly, I hardly know what to say. But 
since my attention has been called to it, I must ad- 
mit that there is something strange about the mat- 
ter; for, just when I had the advantage of him, on a 
straight course, without any visible obstruction, my 
car seemed to be suddenly wrenched from its yoke, 
and I was hurled headlong into the dust. 
Hera. Not that alone; but the mysterious way he 
regained his lash, after losing it, I think most con- 
clusively proves that there is something villainous be- 
hind it all. 

Several. True ! True ! The fraud ! Flay him ! 
Kill him! {With that the whole mob rushes at 
Paris^ who, growing fearful, takes to flight.) 
Hera. Behold, he flees! guilt is at his heels. 
Several. Let him not escape! Catch him! Trap 



38 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

him! {With that the mob chases after Paris. En- 
ter Aphrodite.) 

Aphr. {Calling after the mob.) Hold, hold, I 
say! 

Hera. {Laughing mockingly.) Thou mightest as 
well call to the abandoned winds, as to an infuriated 
mob. 

Aphr. I know it. Yet it is not for them that I 
called, but in mockery of thee. 
Hera. What doest thou mean? 
Aphr. Thou shalt see. {With that she makes di- 
rectly toward the portico where Priam and Hecu- 
ba^ intensely interestedj are gazing after the mob and 
hold the following conversation.) 
Hecuba. Have they overtaken him yet? 
Priam. No ; he is fleet as a doe, and outruns them 
all. 

Hecuba. The gods be thanked for that! 
Priam. It seems thou takest a warm interest in the 
youth ? 

Hecuba. I know not why, but my heart goes out 
toward him. 

Priam. It is strange; I also took kindly to him 
from the very first, or should never have accorded 
him the privilege that I did. 

Aphr. {Approaching them.) Most gracious sov- 
ereign, may I presume to a momentary audience ? 
Priam. Speak, I will attend. 

Aphr. Stirs not a fatherly feeling in thy bosom 
for him who yonder flees a vile pursuit? 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 39 

Priam. What doest thou mean? Thy words are 
veiled In mystery to me. 

Aphr. I mean that yonder fleeing youth is thy son 
whom, in mere superstition, thou hast wrongfully 
cast out to die when but an infant. 
Hecuba. {Growing excited.) Ah, now I can 
Interpret my feelings for the youth ! Yes, father. It 
Is our son ; for in all his form and manner I recog- 
nize thee newly transfigured as when first thou 
camest to woo my love. 

Priam. Not so hastily, wife, I pray thee. We can- 
not take the mere word of a stranger as a warrant of 
fact in a matter of such moment. 
Aphr. It was not expected that you should ; for a 
peculiar cluster of molds at the base of his neck will 
attest the truth of my assertion beyond a doubt. 
Hecuba. Yes, father, we all observed it at his birth, 
and Its peculiarity stirred our wonder. O come, lest 
they kill him — come ere it be too late. 
Priam. But how could he have been delivered from 
the fate to which he was exposed? 
Aphr. A passing herdsman discovered him by his 
cry, and In pity took him home and reared him as his 
own. 

Priam. Yet If he Is to be the curse of Troy, as the 
soothsayers foretold. It were better that he should die 
even now. 

Aphr. Surely, thou wouldst not rid thyself of him 
so willfully as to put faith In a prophecy that has 
been proven false by time. 



40 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Priam. How can I understand thee? 
Aphr. Why, it is already two years beyond the pe- 
riod when ruin should have befallen Troy if he 
would live. 

Priam. Ah, true, it never dawned on me in that 
light. {To Hecuba.) Come, wife, let us hasten, 
these last words are conclusive. 
Hecuba. Yes, let us hasten. {Exeunt Priam, He- 
cuba, and the court in general.) 
Aphr. {To Hera, on her way out.) Thou be- 
holdest that I have little fear of thee and thine. 
{Exit Aphrodite.) 

Hera. Impudence is ever the last resource of baffled 
minds. And yet — her assured manner somewhat im- 
poses on me. If it is as she would make believe, I 
must admit that I am nearly at my wit's end. But 
no — no, my master stroke is as yet to be played. By 
denouncing him the curse of Troy, I will bug-bear 
the people into working us vengeance. Yet how pro- 
ceed ? I have it ! I will put Hector, who is of large 
prestige with the people, with some telling pretext 
out of the way ; that done, Pallas may impersonate 
him and effectively help me arouse the mob against 
Paris, and thus secure the fulfillment of our pur- 
pose at last. Ah, Aphrodite, thou shalt find that 
we are still to be reckoned with! 

CURTAIN 



ACT III 

In the temple of Apollo 

Dramatic personages of the third act: — Priam. 
Paris. Hypothus. Mestor. Antiphon. Po- 
LiTES. Hecuba. Oenone. Cassandra. Hera. 
Pallas, as Hector. Virgins of the temple. The 
mob. 

SCENE. Interior of the temple of Apollo. To 
the left, u'hich represents the rear of the temple, a 
sacrificial altar; to the right, which represents the 
front, an entrance of noble masonry. At the foot 
of the altar, a gong and various other sanctuary 
implements. 

(Cassandra, in a dejected attitude, is at the al- 
tar. Her choir of white-robed virgins is about her. 
Oenone sits lowly coivered at the base of a large 
pillar. ) 

CHOIR 

O thou h'ght-bringer of the world, 

Unto whose eye of ardent might 
All nature's beauties are unfurled 

And broaden to a far delight; 
O thou who love and song instills 

And fillest all with vital throb, 
41 



42 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Bar from her vision fated ills, 
And ease the burden of her sob ! 

All beings joy within thy smile, 

But she is bound to anguish deep; 
Hope may no more her heart beguile. 

And lend her fancy buoyant sweep: 
For like a grape the grief of years 

Is pressed unto her lip, and she 
Must taste the bitterness of tears 

And sorrows that are yet to be. 

Oh, be not thou relentless! bar 

The future's vistas from her eyes; 
Let each day's onward speeding car 

Bear its own fill of woes and sighs: 
For mortal might is far too weak 

To cope against invidious fate. 
O Pheobus, grant us what we seek. 

And give her back her native state. 

{When they have done, all pass out at the rear 
and leave Cassandra and Oenone alone.) 
Cassand. {Arousing.) O glorious One! thou, be- 
fore whom the Hours ever circle in rhythmic joy, 
and the world awakes to fragrant beauty, look with 
compassion on my grief and in mercy lift thy curse 
from me that I may avert this fated horror from my 
people! O Helios, hear me, thy priestess calls! 

. . . Alas, thou art vengeful, and unrelent- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 43 

ingly silent ! — harder than a flint is thy heart to the 
cry of distress! . . . Still, what is this? The 
veil is lifting from my inner sight and I behold a 
wild commotion on the festive grounds. . . . 
The people have arisen against him. — 
Oenone. {Interrupting her, anxiously.) Against 
whom, Cassandra? 

Cassand. {Einphatically.) Against Paris, the 
curse of Troy. 

Oenone. (Arising.) Alas! 

Cassand. He has taken to flight. . . . they 
are pursuing him ... yet he outruns them 
with a triple-winged swiftness. Ah! he seeks his 
way hither — hither to the altar of the god, hoping 
thereat to find protection. O Helios, is this thy an- 
swer to my prayer? . . . Yes, yes, for the gods 
speak in opportunities. So come, my fair young bul- 
lock, come, the sacrificial altar stands prepared for 
thee; since my words avail nothing, I will take to 
deeds. ( With that she picks up a knife from the al- 
tar, and secretes it in her bosom.) 
Oenone. What, thou wouldst not kill him? 
Cassand. Alas, that it must be my duty! But the 
welfare of the world demands it, and in that case 
mercy for the one were a crime to the many. 
Oenone. But thou shalt not, for it is even he whom 
I love. 

Cassand. No, child! 

Oenone. Yes. It is he whom I followed hither, 
and in whose mere shadow I could live with joy. 



44 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Cassand. O Oenone, how grievously thy words 
burden my already all too sadly laden heart. For 
know, I too love him — love him with a sister-love so 
fond and deep that I fear but to look at him might 
weaken me in my purpose. But no, it shall not; I 
am awakened to my duty now and unswervingly will 
act to the wisdom of a higher understanding. 
Oenone. Ah, frantic woman, hearken what I say: 
while I live, thou shalt not touch a hair of his head. 
Cassand. Child, thou art mad. 
Oenone. I care not what I am ; I only know that 
he is all my life, all my hope, and in my struggle for 
these will recognize no odds. 

Cassand. Ah, blinded fury of love, that in the face 
of endless woe seekest a short-lived, selfish happiness ! 
Oenone. Nay, it is not selfish; I could sacrifice all 
the world for him, but would not sacrifice him for 
all the world. 

Cassand. O love, how intricate are thy meshes ! how 
unfathomable is thy law ! the reason can only behold 
them with impotent wonder. {To Oenone.) 
Oenone, thou knowest not how deeply I grieve for 
thee. 

Oenone. Oh, I knew thou wouldst relent — I 
knew thou wouldst have compassion. 
Cassand. Yet think not because my heart is touched 
with human pity, that I will forego my purpose. 
Nay; learn from me that the divinity of the affec- 
tions lies in the supremacy of the mind. 
Oenone. Wouldst thou teach me, the godly born? 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 45 

Cassand. Be not boastful; for unless by thy own 
free will thou canst lift thyself into the empyrean of 
divine illumination, wherein the all-embracing prin- 
ciple of righteousness gleameth like the all-permeat- 
ing sun, thou art no better than the worm under thy 
foot. 

Oenone. Thou speakest fantastically, and wouldst 
but justify thy cruel will. 

Cassand. If of two evils it were cruel to choose 
the lesser, my will would be cruel indeed. 
Oenone. Thou hast no heart — no tender womanly 
ly feeling. 

Cassand. Ah, would that I had not; but therein 
even lies my grief. 

Oenone. Wilt thou not deign me then a word of 
hope? 

Cassand. No; for I would not stoop to delusion 
that maketh a mockery of grief. 
Oenone. Thou art mad, and the people do well 
to spurn thee. 

Cassand. Rail, child, rail at me in the anguish of 
thy heart, I can forgive the rancor of despair. 
Oenone. Oh, Cassandra^ do but spare him for 
me, and I will be grateful to thee forever. 
Cassand. My poor Oenone, have peace; struggle 
only sets the cruel talons of necessity more deeply in 
the heart. Yet he approaches, his heavy panting is 
already in mine ear. Courage, sister, courage; 
know our sorrows die with their day, but a worthy 



46 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

act grows through the ages to a myriad-blossomed 

joy- 

(Oenone throws herself despairingly , face down- 
wardj beside the altar; while Cassandra takes up a 
net and, secreting it under the folds of her gown 
stands awaiting Paris^ who, after a few moments, 
rushes in heavily panting, and embraces the altar.) 
Cassand. So thou hast come, O hapless one ? 
Paris. Ay, hapless indeed, he who must flee to the 
altar of the gods for protection. 
Cassand. And yet from the altar of the gods, 
which is the altar of sacrifice, must ever come the 
world's salvation. 

Paris. Thy words are a mystery to me. 
Cassand. Thou shalt soon understand them, {with 
that she throws the net over him and binds him per- 
fectly helpless.) for thy life is even forfeited to that 
end. 

Paris. {In terror.) Surely, thou wouldst not kill 
me? 

Cassand. Thou shalt die; for thus only can the 
evil be averted that thou art fated to bring over 
Ilium. 

Paris. Alas, then I was blindly beguiled to destruc- 
tion! O Oenone, Oenone, would that I had 
hearkened to thee and spurned the treacherous gods! 
Cassand. Paris, behold in me thy sister. 
Paris. My sister! Ah, then thou merely playest 
with my fears? 
Cassand. Alas, though that were the utmost cruel- 



THE JUDGxMENT OF PARIS 47 

ty, I would thou spakest true. Yet hearken, Paris: 
I have large knowledge of coming events, and see, if 
thou livest, that thou shalt be the cause of a great 
calamity to Troy. Therefor, I beg of thee, sacri- 
fice thyself willingly for the general welfare, and 
make a virtue of death. 
Paris. Thou art mad, and ravest wildly. 
Cassand. Ah, I see there is no understanding in 
the human heart beyond its own desire. 
Paris. Let me part in peace, I pray, for I fear thee. 
Cassand. Paris, think me not mad because I see 
farther and pursue higher ends than are common 
to mortals. 

Paris. O would that I had given myself over to the 
mob rather than fall into thy clutches. 
Cassand. Paris, I have prayed to the gods for 
guidance in this matter, and in answer they have de- 
livered thee into my hands: therefore it is ordained 
that thou shalt die. 

Oenone. (Arising.) But he shall not die. 
Paris. (Surprised.). Oenone! 
Cassand. Away with thee. 

Oenone. No, I will not away. I was in hope that 
thou mightest be merely fanciful, and upon the im- 
mediate facing of thy contemplated deed wouldst 
perchance relent, but since thou seemest determined 
to accomplish it, I will restrain thee with might. 
Cassand. Hark! the mob is approaching and will 
soon be here. Unless I fulfill my purpose now, they 



48 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

may take the possibility out of my hands forever. 
Away, woman! 

Oenone. Never! Never! {With that they fall 
to grappling with each other. After a little Oenone 
gets the upper-hand, and, wresting the knife from 
Cassandra, hastens to Paris and cuts his bonds.) 
Now flee, Paris, flee for thy life. 

{When Cassandra perceives herself baffled, she 
hastens to the gong and strikes it violently. Her 
choir of virgins, in answer to her call, streams in 
from the rear of the temple at the same time that 
the pursuers of Paris pour in at the front.) 
Several. Here he is! Here he is! 
Cassand. Yes, here he is — here he is, the curse of 
Troy! O ye men of Ilium, if you love your sons, if 
you love your daughters, if you love yourselves, city, 
king, now is the time to show it; for at this very 
time their fate is heavy in your hands. Delay not, 
but seize him, slay him, crush him like a viper that 
has raised its fang against your beloved. 

I Citizen. It seems she would really incite us to a 
sacrilegious action. 

II C. Yes, and thus make us liable to the anger of 
the gods. 

III C. And bring upon us the destruction she so 
frantically predicts. 

I C. We dare not lay hand on him now. 

II C. No; he is under the protection of the gods. 

III C. Come, let us depart. 
Several. Yes, let us depart. 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 49 

Hera. {Stepping to the front.) Men of Ilium, 
are you entirely senseless? Will you determlnately 
close your eyes to a hovering menace ? Listen to me, 
and remember that I know whereof I am speaking. 
Yes, it is even as your prophetess says: he, {point- 
ing to Paris,) the curse of Troy, whom the gods 
warned you of when yet in the mother's womb, has 
reappeared among you to fulfill the dire fate that 
clings to his being. 

I C. What speaketh he of? 

II C. I know not. 

III C. Methinks he refereth to the son of our king, 
who in infancy was cast out to die because his moth- 
er dreamed just before his birth that she was to be 
delivered of a burning torch. 

I C. I believe I heard my father speak of that. 
Ill C. O, it is a far recounted tale. 
I C. But was not the child duly disposed of? 
Ill C. Yes. 

I C. Then why should he refer to that ? 
Several. Yes, why should he refer to that? 
Hera. I will tell you why: because the Fates, de- 
termined on their purpose, delivered him into the 
hands of a herdsman, who brought him up as his 
own. 

I C. That gives the matter a different aspect. 
Ill C. Yes. If that be the case we should take no 
odds; for, surely it cannot be a trifling matter, or 
he would not have been disposed of before. Come, 
let us do away with him. 



50 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Several. Let us do away with him! Let us do 
away with him! 

{With that they throng toward Paris, who stands 
at the altar still, with Oenone cowering fearfully at 
his feet. At this moment Hecuba hastily enters.) 
Hecuba. Hold ! hold ! do not dare to lay a hand on 
him, for he is my long lost son. 
Hera. Nay, tarry not; but onward, for now he is 
even proclaimed beyond a doubt. 
Several. Yes, let us do away with him. {They 
throng forward again.) 

Hecuba. {Working her way through the mob till 
she stands protectingly before Paris.) Hold, hold, 
I say, it is your queen that commands. 
Several. He is a menace to us all ! He is the curse 
of Troy. 

Hecuba. Fools! fools! is it under that delusion you 
are laboring? Yet why should I blame you, when 
I myself have been imposed upon by it. But, ah! 
how sadly did I rue it all these years, how bitterly 
have I regretted that I permitted my child to be sac- 
rificed for the augury of a mere dream — a vain 
phantasm of the fevered blood. Yet the Heavens 
were kinder to my boy than his own mother, and pre- 
served him to this day. 

Hera. Heed her not, it is the mother's heart that 
is speaking out of her. You know the truth, and to 
the determination with which you act thereto alone 
you shall own your salvation. 
Hecuba. Who is he that dares thus openly in- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 51 

cite you against your Queen ? By what manner has 
he so suddenly endeared himself to you that he may 
with impunity assail her who has been your life-long 
friend and mediator? Alas, that after all these years 

I should live to have this come over me! {Weeps 
softly.) 

II C. She weeps. 

I C. Perhaps we wrong her. 

II C. Surely, she always willed us well. 

I C. I think we better let the matter rest. 
Hera. {Stepping up energetically.) Ye men of 
Ilium^ are you mere feathers in the wind, servile 
to every momentary impulse, void of constancy and 
intelligent purpose? Know you not the weight of 
seasonable action? Have you no sense of the timely 
moment? Neglect your opportunity and in vain you 
will seek to recall it. What can you be waiting for ? 
Surely the indications of the heavenly will are suf- 
ficiently clear for immediate action. Nay, be no 
laggards; but go you foreward, brush every obstacle 
aside, and accomplish to your better recognition. 

I C. He speaks a likely word. 

III C. I think we ought to look to our own good. 

II C. If we don't, no one else will. 

III C. Let us have done with this affair. 

{The crowd is in commotion at the entrance. En- 
ter Priam.) 

Several. The king! the king! make way for the 
king! 

( The crowd makes way, and Priam passes to the 



52 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

front and places himself besides Hecuba and Par- 

IS.) 

Priam. Ye men of Ilium^ know you whom we 
have here? 

Several. Yes, yes ! Thy ill-fated son ! The curse of 
Troy! 

Priam. Ah, I see you have already been Informed. 
Yet hearken to me, and mark my words: was there 
ever a time when your welfare was not foremost in 
my consideration? 
Several. No ! No ! 

Priam. Is there one among you who can truthfully 
say that my interests were ever for a moment per- 
mitted to stand opposed to yours ? 
Several. No! No! No! 

Priam. Then let me tell you, that as readily as I 
condemned this my son when I believed him a men- 
ace to you, even so readily do I now reclaim him. 
It is already two years beyond the period prophesied 
when havoc should have befallen us if he would live ; 
and here he is, hale and hearty, and Ilium stands 
more proud and prosperous to-day than ever. 
Several. True ! True ! 

Priam. Therefor, since this proves beyond a doubt 
that the dream of the queen-mother must have been 
wrongly interpreted, it were the utmost folly to 
destroy a life, and especially one which, against many 
odds, has revealed itself today of such glorious prom- 
ise. So, trusting that you will take reason, I now bid 
you all to follow me unto the palace, there to finish 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 53 

our Interrupted festivities and give thanks and praise 
to the gods for the safe-keeping and return of this my 
son. Come, I pray you all to follow me. 
All. Hail, hail to our king! Long live the prince! 
Cassand. Father, mother, I pray you, do not des- 
pise the words of one who loves you ; but take warn- 
ing, and house not destruction in wilfull blindness. 
Priam. Cassandra, I know thou meanest well, but 
thou art cursed with an all too fretful solicitude. I 
pray thee, intrude no longer on our patience. ( To 
the people.) Come, my people. 
Cassand. {Approaching her mother.) Thou, O 
mother, thou, who hast ever been my ideal of truth 
and virtue, wilt at least hearken to me. 
Hecuba. Child, I pity thee, and would that I 
could relieve thee of those wild ravings that make 
thee a public mockery and almost astrange thee from 
the heart of thy mother. {With that she follows 
her husband, ivho had already proceeded out 
of the temple with Paris and the several princes, 
and the mob closes in behind her. At the same time 
that they pass out at the front, the choir of vir- 
gins passes out at the rear. Oenone^ apparently fol- 
lows the virgins, yet suddenly glides into a niche and 
there hides herself. Hera and Cassandra remain 
alone.) 

Cassand. O thou, more than man, to whom the 
truth is revealed even as to myself, help — help me 
save my people from the horrible fate that threatens 
them. 



54 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Hera. Have peace, Cassandra^ we will rid our- 
selves of him yet. 

Cassandra. How were that possible? 
Hera. Go, follow the princes and as inobtrusively 
as thou mayest persuade them to return hither. 
Cassand. But they will not heed me. 
Hera. I am confident that they will; for I read a 
mistrustful disposition toward their newly found 
brother In their manner. 

Cassand. Whatever may be accomplished, that I 
will do. {Exit Cassan.) 

Hera. {Calling out.) Pallas! {Enter Vaia^as, 
as Hector.) Ah, thy Impersonation Is faultless, 
thou art Hector beyond a doubt. Now, since I 
have seen thee, thou canst go again; yet when the 
princes have returned, be sure to reappear oppor- 
tunely. 

Pallas. I am almost losing heart of our repeated 
failures, and fear that thy hopes In the efficiency of 
my assumed personality will fall short of realiza- 
tion. 

Hera. That Is Impossible. Thou knowest that the 
people are largely obtuse to reason and lack in posi- 
tive dicernment. Therefor, by the personality of 
Hector, who Is of large prestige with them, I intend 
to glide Into their sympathy and thus easily sway 
them to our purpose. Yet go, methinks I hear the 
princes approach. {Exit Pallas, at the rear. Enter 
Cassandra and the princes at the front.) Mestor, 
Antiphon^ Polites, Hypothus, ay, and I would I 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 55 

could say, Hector, I must have a word with you. 
Mestor. Well, let us hear. 

Antiphon. If it be on this recent matter, it were 
useless. 

Pallas. {Who had entered just in time to over- 
hear the last remark.) It must not be so, brothers. 
All. {In surprise.) Hector! 
Mestor. You returned? 

Pallas. Yes, when some distance on my way, I 
reconsidered the matter and became so impressed 
with its importance that I could not help but retrace 
my steps. Brothers, we must take a decisive stand 
against our parents; in a case of such moment the 
holiest affection should be disregarded, and reason 
alone permitted to speak. 

Antiphon. Then thou believest the prophecy true ? 
Pallas. Why, who could be so senseless as to 
doubt it. 

Cassand. Ah, Hector, let me embrace thee for 
these words ; they are thine, surely, by divine illumi- 
nation. 

Hera. At last, at last the truth has found a cham- 
pion. 

Antiphon. Pray, who art thou that interestest thy- 
self so largely in this affair? 

Cassand. Alas! are you so dull of apprehension as 
not to perceive that a superior being is in your midst ? 
{The princes break out in an ironic laughter.) O 
thou impoverished humanity, calloused to the core in 



56 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

all the finer senses that broaden being unto the di- 
vine! 

Hera. Surely, man does not comprehend divinity; 
he can imagine it only as a far off etherial naught, 
while it really must be of immediate contact and vital 
touch. Yet let that pass ; I seek to be known to you 
only by results, not by name. 

Pallas. Brothers, what better credentials could 
you desire? 

Hera. Having your welfare sincerely at heart, I 
found it vain to appeal to a love-blinded parent, so 
put my hope for truthful recognition in your youth- 
ful, unwarped minds. 

Antiphon. Of what use is our truthful recogni- 
tion as long as we cannot persuade our parent there- 
to? 

Hypothus. Yes, and he is so ensconced behind the 
righteous temper of his soul, that all we may say 
beats into his ear merely as so much wind. 
Hera. Then I will tell you how to proceed in the 
matter without him. Listen: {They put their 
heads together^ and Hera whispers something to 
them.) 

Mestor. (Shrinking back.) Poison? 
Hera. Yes, poison. While the festive hilarity runs 
high, a well-filled bowl will end it all. 
Antiphon. Nay, we will not stoop to such cow- 
ardly means. 
Hera. Cowardly! thou mistakest the word. It is 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 57 

not that we fear other measure, no; we merely 
choose this as the wisest under the circumstances. 
Pallas. It is not well to be too scrupulous in a 
matter like this; the main thing is that it shall be 
done. And done it must be; for this intruder al- 
ready seems to carry a favoritism that is liable to 
make us mere appendages to his glorification. 
Cassand. Fie, brother ! Can these be the words of 
Hector, he whom the Youth of Troy patterns after 
for nobiilty? Fie, I say again, to taint our cause 
with a selfish motive. Thus the holiest purpose is 
turned sacrilegious, and I withdraw my hand from 
the action. 

Hera. Nay, Cassandra^ that was but a blundering 
word — a mere outburst of unsanctioned feeling. And 
though it were otherwise, it should not turn thee 
from a worthy purpose: for a good cause stands in- 
violable and cannot be tainted by an unqualified 
hand. The guilt of whatsoever offence done in its 
name, ever reverts unto the doer. Yet, we are idling 
away precious moments. If by this time we are not 
assured of the necessity of imperious action, we had 
better drop the matter and let events take their nat- 
ural course. So let me hear who is willing to serve 
in administering the potion? {No one responds.) 
What, no response? Truly, counsel profits Man but 
little; pain and sorrow can be his only teacher: 
therefor mishap stretches to endless recurrence, and 
woe is the heirloom of the world ! Ah, it is not pos- 
sible that you can be laggards in a matter that con- 



58 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

cerns you so intimately. Remember, the fate of your 
kingdom, your people, yourselves depends on this, 
and let me hear an answer. 
Cassand. I offer myself for the task. 
Hera. Thou, Cassandra? Nay, I fear to accept 
thee; thy approach might arouse suspicion. 
Cassand. Fear not, I shall know how to trim my- 
self to their humor. 

Hera. Very well then. Are you all satisfied that 
Cassandra should serve? 
All. We are. 

Hera. Yet let it be understood that each one, aside 
from this, in his own sphere, is to forward and se- 
cure the success of our venture as much as possible. 
Come, while Cassandra prepares herself for the 
task, let us away and see how things have proceeded. 
(While they pass out at the front of the temple, 
Cassandra vanishes in its rear. When they are all 
gone, Oenone comes forward.) 
Oenone. Oh, Paris, Paris, would that thou hadst 
never roved from the peaceful haunts of our love. 
Death and havoc hover about the path of ambition, 
and envy and malice is in the rivalry of men. Ah, 
how shall I be able to save thee from the treachery of 
these vengeful goddesses, how measure my strength 
with their seemingly inexhaustible cunning? Yet I 
must not dishearten, and thus deprive the little pow- 
er that I have of efficiency. No, I must bear up 
bravely and outwit their hate at every turn. And 
when I have my Paris again — have him again, sati- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 59 

ated and disgusted with this larger world, how 
proudly will I walk from hence and be content for- 
evermore. But now away; I must be watchful, for 
vigilence is more than might. 

CURTAIN 



ACT IV 

Courtyard of the Palace 

Dramatic personages of the fourth act: — Priam. 
Paris. Mestor. Antiphon. Polites. Hy- 
poTHous. Hemeros. Hecuba. Oenone. Cas- 
sandra. Hera. Pallas, as Hector. Aphro- 
dite. The Mob. 

SCENE. A high wall with an archway, closed by 
a gate, in the rear; an artistic entrance into the pal- 
ace, to the right; and a massive bench-like seat, set 
on a stone elevation, to the left. 

(Noises of a festively abandoned multitude are oc- 
casionally heard, and the gleam of bonfires may be 
seen over the wall, mirrored in the nightly sky. 
Pallas, Mestor, Antiphon, Polites, and Hy- 
POTHOUS to one side.) 

Pallas. Brothers, take my word for it, this mys- 
terious stranger is some qualified personage, and, as 
Cassandra intimated, perchance a god in disguise, 
I think we ought to appreciate his efforts in our be- 
half, and assist him to the utmost. 
Antiphon. That is all well enough, but it is a 
wretched matter to go against one's own flesh and 
blood. 

Pallas. Why, Antiphon, thou speakest like a 

60 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 6i 

child. This life is principally a battling for the gen- 
eral welfare, and where that is concerned everything 
else should be of a secondary consideration. 
Mestor. Hector speaks true. 
Hypothous. Yes, and from what I can see, Hec- 
tor spoke true before also. 
Antiphon. In what regard ? 
Hypothous. In that we are liable to be nothing 
but mere appendages to his glorification. 
PoLiTES. Yes. Mother seems to have but eyes for 
him, and father ever harps his praises. 
Hypothous. Not that alone: but the fullness of the 
land is given to the people to feast and riot in his 
honor, while we were ever stinted and held to par- 
simoniousness. 

Antiphon. I do not like the manner of your 
speech ; it breathes the soul of jealousy, and personal 
feelings color your reason. 

Pallas. That may seem so to thee, Antiphon; 
but I am convinced that Hypothous and Polites 
merely indulge in that sort of talk to strengthen 
themselves in their larger purpose. 
Antiphon. Let me tell thee. Hector, that in gen- 
eral personal feelings are the prime motive, and the 
larger purpose, as thou callest it, but an excuse to 
humor them. 

Pallas. Antiphon, thou speakest like one who 
is weakening in a resolve. Can there be any doubt in 
thy mind of the necessity of our contemplated action ? 
Antiphon. No; or I would never have pledged 



62 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

myself to It. All I ask is that its dignity be pre- 
served by a singleness of purpose. 
Pallas. If that be all, let us not bandy further 
words, but place every other matter subservient to 
our principle aim. (J shout, like that of the masses 
cheering Paris, is heard from without.) Hear the 
menials! erst they were at his heels like blood- 
hounds, and now they are shouting his praises. 
Hypothous. Thinkest thou not. Hector, since the 
people favor him so largely now, that if they found 
us instrumental in bringing about his death they 
might deal harshly with us? 

Pallas. That is a timely word. I almost think it 
advisable for one of us to go among the people and 
with cunning insinuations bring them to favor, yes, 
and if need be, help the fulfillment of our purpose. 
PoLiTES. Thinkest thou it possible to accomplish 
that? 

Pallas. Possible! why anything is possible with a 
mob. There is generally so much light tinder among 
it that the merest spark will set it fantastically 
ablaze. 

Antiphon. Hector^ I must say that I scarcely rec- 
ognize thee in thy zeal for this matter; though thy 
face and figure are the same, there seems to be a 
something foreign in the context of thy speech. 
Pallas. Let that not surprise thee, Antiphon ; for 
one intense emotion may change the entire composi- 
tion of our souls. But what thinkest thou of my 
proposition ? 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 63 

Antiphon. I think it a good forethought, and also 
deem thee well fitted to serve to that end. 
Pallas. The matter is already attended to. The 
stranger is among the people, awakening them to 
their danger, and secretly influencing them to come 
into sympathy with our cause. I merely took this 
round — about way to inform you thereof, that you 
might be more fully impressed with his unusual wis- 
dom and circumspection. 

{The gate is opened, and Priam^ Hecuba^ and 
Paris enter.) 

Priam. For shame, my sons, that, instead of you 
seeking us, we must come to you to have you share in 
our happiness. Pray, tell me, why are you so dark 
and secluded? What grievance harbor you against 
us? 

Mestor. I pray thee, father, permit us to indulge 
our mood. 

Priam. I would, and gladly, thought I it not a 
blind, unwarranted feeling against our joy. 
Mestor. And if it were so, we could still but bide 
its season. 

Priam. Alas, that my own children should be less 
tractable to my wishes than the people at large! 
Mestor. That only proves that our sincerity is 
above the bribery of self-interest, and sustains itself 
even against our love. 

Hecuba. I pray thee, husband, let us not foster 
wordy quarrel. It cannot be expected that our sons 
should take as readily to their newly-found broth- 



64 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

er as thou and I, who have yearned and mourned 
for him all these years. Come, let us joy as best we 
can; I know that Paris with his personal affability 
will soon win his way to their hearts. 
Paris. Yes, brothers — brothers, let me know in 
truth the sweetness of that word, that ere 
this but haunted my fancy. I pray you, keep your- 
selves not aloof from me, nor fear that I shall be 
boorishly cumbersome to you: nay, though reared 
among herdsmen and common rustics, the instinct of 
my royal birth clung to me and kept me from what 
was vulgar in their manner. I beg of you, let us be 
friends; here is my hand to it. 

(No one makes a move to accept the proffered 
hand.) 

Priam. For shame, my sons ! If any one could say 
that I refused the proffered hand of my worst ene- 
my, I should consider myself irredeemably dishon- 
ored. For shame, I say again ! 

Mestor. Father, we know and admire thy gener- 
ous spirit, but are unable to emulate it in our pres- 
ent state of mind. 

Priam. Go to; you are an ungrateful, niggardly 
set, and begrudge a brother rightful share in your 
princely heirloom. 
Mestor. Father ! 

Priam. Utter that word no more, for it sounds like 
a viper's hiss from thy lips. 

Hecuba. I pray thee, husband, restrain thy anger, 
it is growing abusively violent. 



THE JUDGMExNT OF PARIS 65 

Priam. How should it not, when all the love and 
care I gave my children bears me such a bitter fruit. 
Hecuba. But remember that unreasonable chastise- 
ment can only aggravate a vile distemper. 
Priam. Truly, wife. (To the princes.) I crave 
your leniency, my sons. You see that even in age the 
blood's impetuousness needs to be guarded and all- 
distorting passion removed from the mind's eye. If 
you cannot see things in my light, you simply can- 
not, and I should only respect you for your honesty 
in saying so. We will leave matters as they are, and 
let time and mutual fairness smoothen out our dif- 
ferences. {A great noise is heard ivithout. To the 
gate keeper.) What is that noise? 
Gate K. {After looking ivithout.) It is Cassan- 
dra, your Highness. 

Priam. Doubtlessly making a public spectacle of 
herself again, as usual. 

Gate K. {Still looking without.) She is coming 
hitherward followed by a large number of people. 
Priam. What strange turn can her frenzy have taken 
now? 

( The noise of an approaching multitude draws 
nearer and nearer till it seems at the very gate. Out 
of the midst of the garrulous masses Cassandra is- 
sues into the courtyard.) 

Cassand. Father, I have come to share in the feast 
thou hast prepared for thy recovered son. 
Priam. Cassandra, how can I understand thy 
sudden change of mind ? 



66 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Hecuba. Come to my heart, my child. This day 
Is blessed Indeed; for not only one, but two of my 
long lost have returned to me. {She moves to em- 
brace her.) 

Cassand. (Shrinking from her.) Mother, em- 
brace me not, at least — not yet. 
Hecuba. Why child! 

Cassand. Alas ! I pray thee, mark my manner not 
too closely: my long-accustomed, dark, unfriendly 
ways, but recently forsworn, hang yet confusing on 
my better will. Yet let me break their tyranny per- 
force — let me effect high merriment and launch on 
humor's blithest tide. Pray let us have some wine — 
wine, the stimulator of joyous fancy — wine, the har- 
binger of jovial commerce — wine, the god that, glides 
Into the pulses with fervant rapture and makes be- 
ing a heaven of rosy cheer! Let us have some 
wine! 

Priam. (To a servant in waiting.) Some wine. 
(Exit servant.) 

Cassand. (To Paris.) Brother, I greet thee — 
(Mysteriously,) ay, welcome thee home. Believe 
me, I love thee — loved thee even when my hand was 
uplifted against thy life, and hope that thou wilt har- 
bor no resentment against me. 
Paris. Cassandra, thou art the first of my broth- 
ers and sisters to welcome me home, which shall not 
only secure thee my forgiveness, but also an undying 
preference in my heart. 
Cassand. What, have they been so niggardly as 



uorCi' 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 67 

that ? For shame, my brothers ! Why, the sacrificial 
bullock you would have welcomed wfth joyous shout 
to the altar, but a brother you embitter his fate. 
Hecuba. Child, thy words fill me with terror. 
Priam. Cassandra, what brought thee hither? 

( Two servants enter; one passes about the wine 
bowls, and the other follows in his wake and fills 
them.) 

Cassand. Ah, well mayest thou ask, father, when 
my tongue thus wildly strays. I thought that I could 
play the hilarious Bachante at will, but find myself 
warped to my former practices beyond reversion. 
Yet let me have some wine; wine may dissolve the 
rigidity of habit and bring me back my pliancy of 
self. {The one servant passes her a bowl, and the 
other fills it.) {To Paris.) Brother, to thee let us 
drink — to thee poor victim of an evil fate. {While 
she says that she secretly drops some poison into her 
bowl.) 

The Princes. Yes, let us drink. 
Priam. Since thy manner seems so conducive to 
friendlier feelings among the princes, I also say- 
let us drink. 

Cassandra. Yet, hold, brother. Ere thou drinkest, 
as a mark of mutual esteem, I pray thee to exchange 
bowls with me. 

Paris. . Gladly, sister, if it so pleases thee. 
(Cassandra and Paris exchange bowls.) 
Cassand. Here is to Paris! 
All. To Paris. 



68 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

{During the last remarks Oenone is seen under 
the archway remonstrating with the gate-keeper to 
admit her; but as he refuses her, and the critical 
moment is at hand, she calls out from where she is.) 
Oenone. Hold, hold, Paris^ thy cup is fraught 
with death! 

Pallas. She is a lying wench, bar — bar her out ! 
Oenone. O Paris^ do not drink, they are seeking 
thy life! 
Several. Bar her out ! Bar her out ! 

( The gate-keeper forcibly ejects Oenone and 
bars the gate on her.) 

Prl4M. I believe the girl spoke the truth. There 
is a vile conspiracy here afoot. 
Pallas. Father, thou wilt not suspect us at the 
mere word of a disreputable wanton? 
Priam. I will suspect all — all — till I have proof to 
the contrary. 

Pallas. What proof demandest thou? 
Priam. Let him who is assured that the girl spoke 
a falsehood step forward and drain the suspicioned 
bowl. (No one ventures forward.) Ah, then it is 
true, and we are in a nest of treachery. Away with 
you all. 

Pallas. No, father; we must remain and even 
against thy will perform our duty. 
Priam. Cowards you are — low minded menials 
that would bring their old father to grief. 
Antiphon. No, father; it is thy good we are seek- 
ing: for we would secure thine age from desolation, 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 69 

and from becoming a woeful spector in the ruins of 
thy palaces. 

Priam. Do not pretend to work on me again with 
those idle tales; I was their dupe once, but hence- 
forth will spurn them beyond a shadow of belief. 
Pallas. Thy fatherly heart will not permit thee to 
recognize the truth ; yet we have convinced ourselves, 
and are determined that he shall die. 
Mestor. Yes, father; for it were the utmost folly 
to take the odds of human doubt in the face of such 
a menace. 

All. (Moving toward Paris with drawn swords.) 
He shall die! He must die! 
Priam. Back, you ingrates. 

Hecuba. Yes, back! since the savage beasts spared 
him for me, think not that he shall fall a prey to 
you, for I will protect him with my very life. Yet 
believe not, because I oppose you, that you are less 
dear to me than he. No, I bore you all under my 
heart and nursed you to a fair estate; but a mother 
must cling to her neediest child. Ah, sons, I can for- 
give Cassandra, knowing by what fury she is net- 
tled, but you are inexcusably blameable. Yet why 
will I talk — why seek to awaken due regard and lov- 
ing sentiment in j^ou? If you have become so vile as 
to take arms against a helpless brother, you have 
fallen beyond all tender-souled appeal. Nay, I will 
speak no more. When a mother has lost faith in 
her children, death can be her sole relief. So come 



70 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

— come, take your victim, but in mercy let it be over 
the lifeless body of your mother. 

{They fall back abashed.) 
Cassand. O ye Powers malignant, what league 
have you struck with the human heart! Ah, broth- 
ers, be not daunted — let not sentiment and affection 
turn you from the path of truth and worthy pur- 
pose. Recognize that your salvation lies ever in the 
triumph of reason, and unflinchingly mind its dic- 
tates. Yet should you feel yourselves incapacitated 
personally to oppose the will of your parents, go you 
forth and appeal to the people, for where the indi- 
vidual is restrained they may proceed imperiously. 
Think not that it were cruel to urge the matter thus 
forcibly; no, your intention is for the best, and be- 
yond that everything falls to the responsibility of the 
gods. So arouse ye, in such a cause but menials 
would delay. 

Pallas. Yes, Cassandra has knowing counsel, let 
us refer our cause to the people. {A noise as that of 
a growling multitude has occasionally been heard ere 
this J but just then broke out with greater force imme- 
diately at the gate.) Hark! they are already at the 
gate. {She goes to the gate and throws it wide open, 
and, led by Hera, in stream the masses.) Ye peo- 
ple, we are not your defense, no, you are ours. 
Though we may counsel and guide, you must fight 
the battles and overcome the besieging foe. You are 
aware what woe is destined to come over us by this 
our hapless brother. His very birth was so marked 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 71 

with incident of dark portent, that seers and sages, 
wise in heavenly counsel, advised his death. Yet a 
determined fate delivered him from what was know- 
ingly decreed and even this day brought him again 
among us to accomplish its malignant purpose. Re- 
member, the gods never speak in vain, and their 
merest intimation should be a guidance to the wise. 
Unless you take up this matter energetically, the 
eve of a horrible fulfillment is at hand. So delay no 
longer, but with one bold action sweep this hover- 
ing menace from the horizon of your future. 
Several. He shall die ; he is a danger to us and our 
children. 

Priam. Hear me! 

Hera. Nay, hear him not; you know your duty, so 
— up and onward. 

Several. Hear him not! Hear him not! 
Priam. You must hear me. 
Several. Hear him! Hear him! 
Others. Hear him not! Hear him not! 
Priam. What, has it come to this ? 
Several. Hear him! Hear him! 
Hera and Pallas. Hear him not! 
A Large Number. Hear him not! Hear him not! 
Priam. {Pleadingly.) Hear me! I your king begs 
of you, not commands. 
Quite A Number. Hear him! Hear him! 
Pallas. Hear him not! Hold your footing, one 
moment of relaxation might prove fatal. 
In full Volume. Hear him! Hear him! 



72 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Priam. Ah, my people, more generous to me than 
my own children, if my son is a menace to you, let 
his life be forfeited: for the individual should hold 
no right beyond that of the Commonweal's. Yet, I 
think, since it must be, that I have been sufficiently 
deserving for you to proceed in this matter with as 
much regard for my feelings as possible. Therefor I 
pray you to withdraw a few moments, and with you 
take everyone here present, so as to allow the heart- 
broken parents a solitary farewell with the hapless 
victim of your delusion. 
All. So be it ! So be it ! 

Hera. Fools, fools, you know not what you are do- 
ing. 

All. So be it! So be it! (With that they close 
about everyone present, but Priam, Hecuba, and 
Paris, and, ivilling or unwilliiig, sweep them in one 
throng out of the courtyard. When they are all 
out, Priam bars the gate after them.) 
Hecuba. Oh, what shall we do ! 
Paris. Would that I had never roved from my 
mountain home. 

Priam. Have no fear, my son, I'll save thee from 
them yet. 

Paris. If I could but escape I would never venture 
into their path again. 

Hecuba. My lord, I bethought me of Hemeros, 
whose bottom lies in port ready to sail for Sparta; 
were it not possible to bid him hoist sail at once and 
take our son with him? 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 73 

Priam. Wife, thou hast hit on my very plan. Go, 
call Hemeros hither immediately; he is in the ante- 
chamber, anxiously awaiting orders to be off, as a 
northwind has risen and is blowing a prosperous gale. 
(Hecuba goes into the palace.) So, my son, thou 
art saved ; and things culminate so nicely for thy de- 
parture as if it were the will of Heaven that thou » 
shouldst go. 

Paris. Yet, father, finding me gone they might visit 
their wrath upon thee. 

Priam. Fear not, son; I labored with the masses 
too much not to know how to take them. They are 
like a large, heavy-minded child, that one durst not 
oppose bluntly, but with due consideration may sway 
almost to any purpose. Yet think not from this that 
I despise them; nay, they have my innermost regard. 
Their will, beyond that of an idle, inflamed humor, 
constitutes the world's supreme authority. They 
are the prime resource of all human and divine po- 
tencies; and the great pivot on which the scale of 
universal justice ballances for equipoise. 
Paris. Yet, if I go, shall I never see thee again ? 
Priam. Yes, my son, after some time. When their 
fear of thee has subsided, and its foolhardiness be- 
come evident, thou shalt return, and I will prepare 
a royal welcome for thee. {Enter Hecuba with 
Hemeros.) Hemeros, be gone on thy voyage at 
once. Thou art aware how this my son is threatened 
by the unwarranted fear of the people, so I would 
have thee take him with thee and place him into the 



74 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

care of our well esteemed friend of Sparta, King 
Menelaus. There is no space for further consider- 
ation now; my orders are — up, and awaj^ 
Hemeros. Most gracious Sovereign, my reverance 
for thee knows but one word, and that is — obedience. 
Priam. I knew I could depend on thee. ( To 
Paris.) Farewell, son; though but a few hours 
mine, thou hast grown dear to me as life. 
Hecuba. Go, son, go though my heart almost breaks 
in telling thee so. Yet sacrifice is the virtue of love, 
and therein I shall find my solace when thou art 
gone. 

Paris. Farewell, mother. Farewell, father. {He 
embraces both in turn.) 

Priam. There is no time to be lost, so now — away. 
Though the cloak of night is about you, you had better 
leave the palace by the postern-door joined to my 
closet by a blind gallery: it is well known to thee, 
Hemeros. {Exeunt Paris and Hemeros.) {When 
they are gone Hecuba falls weeping on her hus- 
band's breast.) Have peace, wife, and let the balm 
of reason soothe thy grief. 

Hecuba. Oh, I could bear everything were it not 
for the hatefulness our children manifested toward 
us to-day. 

Priam. That is also my pang of bitterness. Yet 
let us not look too severely at their action. We all 
have our convictions, and according to the honesty 
with which we act to them alone can we be judged. 
By the light of our being, be it whatever it will, we 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 75 

can only be held responsible. If they sinned It was, 
to all appearances, from a mistaken regard for our 
best, and, therefor, cannot be accounted against them. 
So let us be sensible, and not idly prolong the 
malice of a fortuitous occurrence; but with reason 
and leniency woo sweet concord back into the rela- 
tions of our household. 

Hecuba. Thou speakest wisely. But we women 
are poor creatures of unreasonable affection, and in 
the fullness of our sympathy more capable of giving 
than taking counsel. Yet I will cling to thee, and 
of thy kindness at least take comfort, if not redress. 
{During this the mob had begun to manifest i?n- 
patience without, and beat and pressed against the 
gate until it gave way. Enter mob with Hera, 
Pallas, Cassandra, Oenone, and the princes 
m.ingled promiscuously among them.) 
Several. {After looking about.) He Is not here! 
He has escaped ! 

Hera. It Is just as I told you; you have been 
duped. 

Several. Where is he? We demand him from 
thy hand. 

Priam. My people, rage and tear to pleasure, I 
have no fear. Though I feel it my duty to preserve 
and protect others when I see them wrongfully 
threatened by you, personally I shall ever commit 
myself to live or die by your will. {A growl of evi- 
dent satisfaction from the ?nob.) . Yes, you have 
been duped — If you would call it so, your confi- 



76 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

dence was betrayed, and It is sad enough that I had 
to stoop to such means to keep you from a deed of 
unjust violence. 

Cassand. O father, what hast thou done? Thou 
hast sped the design of a most merciless fate, and 
sealed thine own doom. Already I can behold the 
sea furrowed by the keels of the stranger, and broad- 
bellied bottoms disgorge their spear-bristling hordes 
upon our shores. Look, how they sweep along, like 
some vast, rippling tide aglitter with the sheen of 
morning! Hear you not the clanging of their arms 
and the thunder of their martial tread ? Lo, they are 
beating at the city's gates, and its bulwarks are tot- 
tering with the brunt of their numbers ! Woe, woe 
to thee. Ilium ! carnage and destruction shall hold 
riot in thy streets, and the beauty of thy daughters 
be the spoil of the stranger. Woe to thee, Ilium, 
woe! in the blindness of my sympathy I sought to 
avert thy doom, but, alas! the Fates have made my 
labor vain and a mockery forever. 
Priam. See you now in what foolhardy halucina- 
tion you were caught? Could there be a better ex- 
position than this to show its utter absurdity? . I 
really cannot understand how you could have lost 
yourselves so senselessly: for it is impossible for me 
to believe that you, who ever spurned and mocked 
the mad delusions of this my poor afflicted daughter, 
could thus suddenly and seriously permit her rant to 
faith. Alas! when such wild chimeras can thus 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 77 

easily bugbear you unto furious excess, I fear there 
is no dependence to be placed in you anymore. 

I C. I believe myself that we were foolish. 

II C. We ought to have known better than to op- 
pose our King. 

III C. Yes, and why did we do it? 

I C. It seemed a foolish excitement swept us along. 

II C. I hardly know now what it was all about. 

III C. And yet you were ever the loudest in the 
matter. 

II C. I? 

III C. Yes, you. 

II C. Don't you tell me that; everyone knows that 
you howled most. 

I C. What is the use of quarreling about it now? 
The thing is done, and that ends it. All that we can 
do is to thank our King that it had no worse con- 
sequences. 

Several. Yes, we can thank our King, 
Priam. At last, at last, my people, you have come 
to your senses, of which I am highly pleased, even 
though my son is now beyond recall : for with Hem- 
EROS I sent him to Sparta. 

Oenone. {Breaking wildly through the crowd.) 
Oh, he has not gone — say he has not gone from me. 
Priam. He is now upon the high sea, sailing before 
a well-mettled breeze. 

(Oenone reels and would have fallen to the 
floor but for Cassandra's timely bracing.) 
Priam. What can he be to her? 



78 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Hera. What can he be to her! {Laughing con- 
temptously .) She Is a wanton that followed him 
from the mountain, and should not be tolerated 
among self-respecting people. 

Cassand. What, this from thee? Ah, I fear thou 
now reveal est thyself in thy true light ; for thy words 
prove thee vindictive and of a craven-heart. 
Hera. I care not now^ what they prove me. The 
wench crossed me in all my plans, and deserves to be 
severely dealt with. 

Cassand. No one shall harm her while I am nigh. 
Though she thw^arted me in my highest purpose, I 
bear her no malice ; for she meant even as well as I 
did, and the Fates alone are responsible for the re- 
sult. ( To Oenone^ who lies reclining agaihst her 
in a faint.) Come, thou poor victim of an invidious 
destiny, I will bear thee from this unkind world and 
with the alchemy of my love seek to nurse thee back 
to peace. 

Oenone. {Recovering.) Oh! — where am I? 
Where is he? Alas, gone — gone from me without a 
single word of farewell! Yet, why should I make 
sad complaint as long as he is safe ? Nay, I ought to 
be happy if he but lives. For thus I can bear all, 
and may console myself with the hope that some day 
he will return to me. 

Cassand. Come, Oenone^ go with me, I will give 
thee sisterly comfort. 

Oenone. No, Cassandra, no; I have a fear of 
thee now, and would flee from the terror of thy deep- 



THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 79 

groping thought. No; I will leave these close en- 
vironments — environments where molder infests 
every breath, and almost stifles the soul. No; 
I will go back to my native haunts, where 
all is linked in vital sympathy and inter- 
wreathed unto a world of beauteousness and 
peace. Yet ere I go, let me tell you, ye people, that 
you were the play of vindictive Powers — Powers 
who, unable themselves to work their spite, labored 
you to that end. Yonder stranger, and he who ap- 
pears to be Hector, are not what they seem. I will 
say no more. If this is not enough to open your eyes 
and make you forever self-reliant, the sore way of 
experience will eventually bring you unto that goal. 
{Exit Oenone, slowly followed by Cassandra.) 
Several. Can she have spoken the truth? 
Hera. Yes, the woman spoke the truth; let it be 
frankly admitted, since there can be nothing gained 
by a denial. We labored you with old wives tales 
and merely used you for a tool. 
Aphrodite. {Appearingly miraculously.) Not so, 
I made a tool of you. 
Hera. How that? 

Aphrodite. By harnessing your opposition to my 
purpose ; for Paris is even now speeding to his prom- 
ised reward — the fairest of women. 
Hera and Pallas. Baffled again! 
Aphrodite. I am glad to see you so unanimously 
agreed on an obvious fact. 



8o THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 

Hera. Thy taunt is void of sting, for we are not at 
the end yet. 

Pallas. No. Indomitable will from a thousand 
reverses at last shall pluck the desired fruit. 
Aphrodite. Baffled rancor loves to gnaw the bit- 
ter rinds of hope and persuade itself that they are 
sweet. Yet you are welcome to the consolation, 
while success is mine. 

{A faint thunder is heard, and the goddesses van- 
ish miraculously J leaving all dumbfounded.) 

CURTAIN 



JUl 13 1905 



